A Picard Christmas Log
by Draxis
Summary: Picard's Christmas Eve paperwork receives an unwelcome interruption - a one-shot parody of Star Trek:TNG and the poem The Night Before Christmas. I'd pay good money to have Patrick Stewart and John DeLancie read this dramatically.


**A Picard Christmas Log**

'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the ship,  
Not a sensor was chirping, not even a blip.  
Alone in my quarters, I'd just settled in,  
'Twas time to write the crew's evals again.

I reached for my padd and a cup of Earl Grey,  
And read through all that I wanted to say.  
I'd rated my officers right at the top,  
I considered each one the cream of the crop.

But then, with a flash, there appeared you-know-who.  
No. Not Santa. Just that miserable Q.  
He sported a fuzzy red cap on his head,  
But he lacked a big sack, 'twas a briefcase instead.

With a smirk on his lips and a gleam in his eye,  
He said "Don't get up! Just thought I'd drop by."  
I sighed and said "Q, I wish you would leave."  
"I have much to do on this late Christmas Eve."

Q sat on my desk and he snatched up my padd.  
"When you see what I brought you, you'll surely be glad."  
"Q", I snarled, "I fail to see,"  
"What you could have of interest to me."

"Jean-Luc, I know you think little of me."  
"But give me a chance, and I'm sure you will see."  
"I really want to help you this night,"  
"And since I'm almighty, that gives me the right."

He studied the evals, chuckled and sneered,  
And then with a snap, my padd disappeared!  
I leapt to my feet with a shout of outrage.  
"I want those files back, every last page!"

With a theatrical flourish, he waved in the air,  
And I suddenly found myself back in my chair.  
At that, Q gave me an infectious grin.  
Then opened his briefcase and reached deep within.

He pulled out documents, sheet after sheet.  
And placed them before me, stacked quite neat.  
"Please have a seat, Oh Mon Capitone!"  
"I think you'll agree these are second to none."

I saw that I would get nothing else done.  
Unless I played along with Q's twisted fun.  
"I'll look through these papers," I said with dismay.  
"But after I'm through, will you please go away?"

He nodded and smiled as I picked up a sheet  
I saw with relief that at least it was neat.  
Q had rewritten my work for the night.  
But I quickly noticed that much was not right.

The revised eval that I held in my hand,  
Said things about Will that I never had planned.  
"Overly tall, with an unruly beard."  
"Dates holodeck women, a trait to be feared."

Next was the eval with Beverly's name.  
But I saw that only the age was the same.  
"A liberal mother whose boy runs wild."  
"She hits on her captain (that's putting it mild)."

I looked at the next sheet that sat on the stack.  
When I saw what it said, I was taken aback.  
"Worf's forehead is wrinkled; he sports a wild mane."  
"His family problems are always a pain."

With quivering hands, I snatched the next page.  
The things Q had written filled me with rage.  
"As chief engineer, Geordi keeps a good shop."  
"But his flirting with ensigns simply must stop!"

I said to myself, "I'll read just one more."  
But this was worse than the previous four!  
"Troi cannot decide what to wear to her post."  
"And her daily hairdos are no reason to boast."

I snatched up the last, hoping Q would relent.  
But his inputs on Data were decidedly bent.  
"Keeping tabs on Data has been quite a chore."  
"A couple of times he turned out to be Lore."

I slapped the sheets down and I glared at my foe.  
"Q, even for you this is despicably low."  
Q gave me a look of wounded pride.  
His jaw dropped down, and his eyes opened wide.

"Jean-Luc, even with your lame human brain,"  
"You can see that I've written these just for your gain."  
"These clever evals are your key to success."  
"Submit all of these and you'll beat every mess."

I shook my head. "That's ridiculous, Q!"  
"These wretched evals will just hurt my crew!"  
Q rolled his eyes as I sat quite confused.  
"I see that I'll have to explain," he mused.

"If you write grand evals, they'll all get promoted."  
"And then they'll be snatched by an admiral bloated."  
"Your fabulous crew will be scattered old vets."  
"And you will be stuck breaking in new cadets."

Q bowed to me and said "Mon Capitone!"  
Spun once on his heels, and then he was gone.  
I started to discard his vile reviews.  
But stopped as I realized what he'd said was true.

If I turned in evals that were filled with praise,  
I'd lose my whole crew in a matter of days.  
I felt my spirits beginning to lift,  
As I fed the computer Q's Christmas gift.

Then I glanced out my window and to my dismay,  
I saw Q racing off in a warp-powered sleigh.  
He looked back at me and I heard him declare,  
"Merry Christmas, Jean-Luc! Next year I'll bring _hair_!"


End file.
